An ode to Mother Nature; poems that take their inspiration from the great outdoors.
I feel you reading my words as I type, Is this what you searched for? Supernatural is beyond what writes, Can you knock on the door?
By Daniel Reurink5 years ago in Poets
Pale and wispy charcoal clouds sweep away the cerulean blue at day’s end As bright sun yellow-dazzles heralding this day’s demise
By Deborah Dabbs5 years ago in Poets
She grew in the garden of magenta flowers Where the bright sun embraced the green paddy fields. Barefoot, she roamed freely among ancient, banyan trees
By Bernadine Sanguineti5 years ago in Poets
The snow falls against a bright pink backdrop Mystical, magical, momentarily musing me To go into neutral and glide into a parking space
By May Brault 5 years ago in Poets
The spider in my head has spun a web between my senses. Sturdy, glistening strands cross cranial canyons Bridging cities, each bursting with perceptive possibility.
By Jenni Tyler5 years ago in Poets
I have a problem With Yellow. We just don’t Sit right with Each other. I am not sure Why; Yellow Is uncomfortable.
By Ramona Rhae5 years ago in Poets
As my eyes have become adjusted to the darkness, silence has become a way of life. I call out to anyone that will hear, and a shimmering dim light speaks to me
By Dana Brouillette5 years ago in Poets
One-step-ahead red: When I turned 13 and gained a sinister follower, a sinewy river always coursing just beyond the bend
By Stephanie Garber5 years ago in Poets
Disgusting Birds Flock, flock, flock You feed from the regurgitation of your mother’s because you can not feed yourselves
By christina Huertas5 years ago in Poets
violet the cries that exist in the shade allergic to sun all my wandering days violet my soul that beats out of time with people and place
By Nene5 years ago in Poets
Crimson red, the colour I bleed. Whilst picking roses within my garden. Simultaneously looking up is a pale blue sky
By Joshua Satre5 years ago in Poets
Sea... Oh how beautiful With you, the sunset is! The view itself seems like an imagination. Like an art of work from god himself.
By Em Hoccane5 years ago in Poets
